The Marches
The Marches
It must be to us something of magical, indeed of mysterious, in the clear and thin air of this earth waved in thousand hills that run towards the sea in rows to order, like a charge of cavalloni verdeggianti of grain and ulivi. It must be to us something of mysterious, indeed of magical, in red cascades of roofs that punctuate every relief, in the horizon that includes in a single embrace the blue pale of the Sibillini mounts and the soft blue of the Adriatic. Something of special must be to us if here, own here, Giacomo Leopardi has been born and here has found new roots and inspirations clamorous artists like Carl Crivelli and Lorenzo Lottery.
Common villages and little ones conquer for the tranquillity and the good ways, of which but it does not love makes virtue: the visitor that passes hence them scova po for time, following an ideal thread of Arianna that the door to centellinare an historical center after the other.
They can be admired incontaminati landscapes and be discovered a philosophy of life made of a simple common sense. A territory that it has known to at best conjugate economic development and conservation of the landscape, thus succeeding to catch up an enviable quality of the life, confirmed from the longevity of the population.
Lorenzo Lotto, the Recanati Annunciation